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Berea cop sees assisting addicts, not just arresting, as the right way to protect and serve: Michael K. McIntyre

Updated on June 25, 2017 at 10:46 AMPosted on June 25, 2017 at 6:18 AM

Berea police patrolman Dave Kammerman is part of the "Safe Passages" program that has police officers helping people addicted to drugs get treatment rather than arresting them. Kammerman says it has changed his outlook on life and is the best thing he has ever done as a police officer. (Lynn Ischay/The Plain Dealer)

Berea police patrolman Dave Kammerman is part of the "Safe Passages" program that has police officers helping people addicted to drugs get treatment rather than arresting them. Kammerman says it has changed his outlook on life and is the best thing he has ever done as a police officer. (Lynn Ischay/The Plain Dealer)(Lynn Ischay)

BEREA, Ohio -- Berea Police Patrolman David Kammerman fumbled for the ringing cell phone. It was 4 a.m. and his shift in this low-crime college town didn't start for another few hours.

"Hello?"

On the other end was a drug addict whom Kammerman had encountered on the job. But he never arrested him. Instead, the guy came to Kammerman for help and the officer gave it, reassuring him that "addiction is not a choice, but recovery is." Then, as part of a cooperative program with Olmsted Township Police called "Safe Passages," the cop worked the phones and lined up a coveted inpatient treatment bed.

"I'm supposed to go to (a treatment clinic in) Warren, but my ride fell through," the caller said, worried that Kammerman would think he was using again.

"Can you make it to the station by 7?" Kammerman replied. "I'll drive you to Warren myself.'"

Later that morning, the burly 44-year-old cop with the high and tight haircut and dark Ray-Ban sunglasses drove a drug addict -- in the front seat of his cruiser -- to detox.

"I'll do whatever it takes," said Kammerman, a 16-year patrolman who acknowledges that early in his career, he saw drug abusers simply as criminals.

"I was that officer: 'Are we going to that house again? We have to deal with this again? Just let nature take its course.' I know, it sounds horrible," he told me as he piloted his patrol car through city streets, past the campus of Baldwin Wallace University and the Cleveland Browns training facility.

All was quiet, except for the Johnny Cash songs coming low through the speakers, and the occasional buzz of his cell phone. It was another addict replying to Kammerman's text checking up on him: "I'm doing OK, Dave. Thanks for asking."

Kammerman's epiphany came when Safe Passages started last August and he re-defined addicts as people suffering from addiction. When he saw them as someone's son or daughter, brother or sister, mom or dad, spouse.

"They can't control it," he said. "They need help and they don't have anyone left that can help them."

Help could mean the difference between life and death. This year, the death toll from overdose is on pace to top last year's grim record of 666 in Cuyahoga County. "Whatever it takes" includes cops willing to assist and not just arrest. It means cops carrying the opiate antidote Narcan to save a victim on the spot, and then going a step beyond to help prevent the next overdose.

Cops aren't social workers, that's true. But they're in a unique position to help, and helping addicts recover is good for the addict and makes the community safer.

Kammerman knows this. So does a growing cadre of cops across the country involved in programs like Safe Passages, which is part of the national Police Assisted Addiction and Recovery Initiative. Since Safe Passages began ten months ago, more than 100 addicts have gotten help, exactly 77 of them in Berea, where Kammerman and Sgt. Pat Greenhill help guide them through the process. Many come from outside the city. There are no geographical limits to addiction, or the help they offer.

It's not an amnesty program. If they have warrants, they'll be arrested. They still have to deal with any criminal charges. But at least they'll be alive to do it. Plain Dealer reporter Brie Zeltner is working on an in-depth story about these programs locally and nationwide and whether they work.

Kammerman can tell you they do.

"This is a complete culture change for us in law enforcement," said Kammerman, a Miami University grad who dabbled in politics and thought about law school before settling on police work.

"I've been a police officer for 16 years," he said. "And this really is the best thing that I have done in my career."